deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem the last bottle in the world

the last bottle in the world

After dark,
Painted aquarelle with
Raven feathered brush &
Silvered vodka hue -
A life, stilled in silt.

Hung on string of morning dew
Queued ~
Wed canvas wet to womb’ing sun.
It didn’t surprise me
When the sun never rose.

It began raining
Old wives and walking sticks,
The first to the mill always grinds.
What became of the (un)likely lad
Throwing his tattoos around empty beds?

How could I walk
Into life of another,
When an other
Cut my legs to knees.
Colony of ants dragged me from floor.

They taught me to dance again
Eternal swansong ~ dau enaid ond un taith
So glad, in honour, they did.
The sun it rose as crucified rosary
& burnt the gallery to the ground.

ERUGLCT #15

Cymru. Two souls, one journey
Strangeways_Rob
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Published
Author's Note
#15. Umanoid. Sing me to sleep. It can be the most difficult thing in the world, to learn to love and trust again. ALL STAY SAFE
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4 reading list entries 2
comments 1 reads 172
Rachelleundrgrd nomoth
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:42pm by wilberfloss
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:32pm by wilberfloss
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:16pm by The_Silly_Sibyl
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:16pm by Northern_Soul
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:12pm by Northern_Soul
POETRY
Today 10:54pm by Bluevelvete